Lucky
by pfloogs72
Summary: : Sookie shares a Southern tradition for good luck in the New Year with her skeptical friends who seem to fear that hers has run out.


_A/N This is a story written for fellow New Yorker, **pretendi'mnothere**, in Sookie's Secret Santa fic exchange organizaed by the fantastic **Jan of Arc** and **Blake's Boogie**. A big thanks to the two of them for putting this fun holiday event together. Make sure you check out the other 43 stories written for the exchange - there's something for everybody!_

_Hope you all enjoy the Holidays!_

_xo, Pfloogs72_

* * *

><p>The three women circled a fourth ominously. Their gait was syncopated, predatory. As they closed in on their apparent prey, she began to cower. I stopped the music and massaged my temples. It was all wrong.<p>

"Sorry, ladies. Can we try that again from the top?"

The four rolled shoulders and necks, shook out muscles, and strode back to their original spots with feline grace.

"Tara, this time I'd like you to strike a defiant posture. Don't be a victim – meet the three with a challenging stare."

After a few more notes and adjustments, I started the music again and watched the four dancers power through the second half of the piece. It was the end of our rehearsal time and their energy was flagging, but I felt we'd made some progress in at least a couple of the more problematic spots of the dance piece. The last note of the music rang through the studio then gradually faded until all that could be heard was the labored breathing of the dancers and traffic from the street below.

"That seemed to work a little better. How'd it feel?"

"Better, but still not natural," Tara replied with her usual candor.

I nodded my understanding and glanced at my watch confirming it was eleven on the nose. "Well, our time is up. Thanks for a great rehearsal."

All four dancers moved to gather their belongings. It had been seven months since I'd begun developing the ballet. The last two months were spent rehearsing with the dancers, and we had one month until our concert in a downtown dance festival. I was feeling the pressure.

"Oh! I almost forgot," I blurted. "I have a little something for each of you."

I darted to my own dark heap of outerwear and dug through my tote for the four packages that by then were a little worse for wear after being dragged around the city all day.

"Awww, Sook - you shouldn't have." Amelia's toothy smile beamed from under her pixie cut.

I extended the package and gave her a hug.

"It's just a little something for luck in the New Year."

She ripped the paper off in a curling shred and her eyes widened in amusement. "Beans? Really, you shouldn't have."

"Ha, ha." I rolled my eyes. "They're actually black-eyes peas – it's a mix for Hoppin' John."

Her blank look made clear she'd never heard of the dish that was a holiday staple in my family. By then Tara, Holly and Halleigh were bundled in their heavy coats and encircled me. I handed out the packages and explained.

"It's a Southern tradition, Gran's recipe. Make this on New Year's Day – it'll bring you good luck in the coming year."

"Luck in the romance department?" quizzed Amelia with a glint in her eye.

I snorted thinking of her endless stream of dates. "Like you need luck."

She slung an arm around my shoulder as we headed to exit the studio, waving at the two dancers in the hallway waiting to use the space.

"Actually, I was thinking if you've been eating these magic beans…"

"Peas," I corrected.

"If you've been eating this stuff every New Year and your love life is still dismal, then maybe I'd be better steer clear."

I shot her my best withering look. "A, it's not _that_ dismal….and B, there are other kinds of luck, you know."

"You've been single for like two years now, Sookie. At this point you're beyond needing luck – you just need to get lucky."

"Ladies, ladies," Tara came up between us and linked her arms through our elbows. "Enough quibbling. Shall we go get a drink?"

I shook my head. "Sorry guys, too late for me. I've got a lot of work tomorrow at the office."

"On Christmas Eve?" Amelia was always scandalized by the trials of those who had to actually work for a living. She worked erratic hours in a Soho boutique for a little mad money and a great clothing discount, but a healthy trust fund made her life as a dancer quite comfortable.

"Well, since choreography has yet to yield me piles of cash, I must slog away at my day job."

"Again, I wonder about the effectiveness of these magic beans."

"Peas."

"Whatever."

Later, on the subway platform, I took up my usual position against a steel beam thick with layers of chipped blue paint and pondered the troubled ending of the piece. My mind drifted back to the discussion about Hoppin' John. My brother and I had always eaten heaping bowls of the stuff on New Year's. Jason was convinced the amount of luck was directly related to the amount consumed, while I was concerned my luck would run out in April if I didn't eat enough.

For a split second I actually considered whether the theory of my youth had any merit. Perhaps I wasn't eating enough Hoppin' John these days to last through December? I snorted at the ridiculousness of the thought and shook my head to clear it.

I pulled my jacket closer around me and took a cursory scan of the people on the platform. Despite the late hour, the West Broadway station had a fair amount of traffic. I caught bits and pieces of conversation over the strains of a guy playing guitar further down the platform.

I returned my mind to the problems of the ballet until I recognized the song, "People Get Ready." A quick glance down the inky subway tunnel revealed the headlamp of an oncoming train and I couldn't help but grin appreciatively at the guitar player's sense of humor.

Moments later I was rumbling over the tracks toward home.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

"Merry Christmas, Gran!" I cradled the phone against my shoulder and burrowed into my old sofa.

"You too, dear. I wish you were here in the flesh so I could hug you."

My throat tightened. "Me too, Gran." I was pouring every penny I had into mounting this ballet and didn't have a dime to spare. "Next year I'll be home for the holidays. I promise."

"What are you doing for Christmas dinner?"

"I'll stop by a restaurant before church. Whatever's open."

"Oh, Sookie. I don't like the thought of you by yourself on Christmas?"

I smiled at her concern. "I don't mind. A friend invited me to her family's home north of the city for Christmas dinner, but decided to stay here instead."

Gran clucked her tongue. I knew she was shaking her head in disapproval as she did it. "Alone on Christmas."

"Alone with seven million people," I reminded her with a grin.

"Well…"

"I'll be fine, Gran. Please don't worry about me."

"It's my job."

I laughed at that and we spent the next few minutes talking about my dance project and some of the more outrageous doings of the hometown folks before signing off. I was still basking in the comfort of a conversation with Gran when I ventured out to find a restaurant for dinner in the early evening.

More restaurants were closed for the holiday than I'd anticipated, but finally I located a Greek diner with windows blazing and bedecked with enough garish holiday decor to give the Rockefeller Tree a run for it's money. The other diners were boisterous and talking between tables; it felt as though I'd walked into a party. The restaurant seemed to be packed with people like myself who were far from home, and the owner was greeting each customer who walked through the door like family.

I was happily ensconced in a booth near the window with an industrial strength mug of coffee warming my hands when my eyes turned to a table of three guys across the diner rising to leave. The tallest of the three glanced briefly in my direction before swinging back with an expression of recognition that unnerved me. I shifted uncomfortably in my booth and glanced over my shoulder to see if he perhaps was looking at somebody over my shoulder, but the only thing behind me was a very large ficus tree laden with candy canes.

My mind raced in an attempt to place his bold features and shaggy blond hair, but I was drawing a blank. Surely if I'd ever met or even seen him before I would remember it; it wasn't a face one would likely forget. Clearly he had me confused with somebody else. Lucky lady, whoever she was.

I stirred cream into my coffee to keep from gawking as he waved goodbye to his friends and crossed the restaurant in my direction. By the time he reached my table it seemed I could practically hear my heart beating. It wasn't everyday – make that _any_ day – that I was approached by a stranger who looked more likely to be in the pages of GQ than on _America's Most Wanted_.

"Merry Christmas," he said when I looked up at his looming figure. His mouth turned up in a grin and the corners of his eyes crinkled. Maybe he really was a serial killer, charming lonely girls before luring them to a sordid end.

I gave him back a tentative smile. "Merry Christmas to you too." A nervous bubble of laughter escaped me. "Uh, do I know you?"

He shoved his hands in his pockets and shrugged his shoulders. "West Broadway subway station? Thursday nights?"

I cocked my head and met his blue eyes in contemplation. My brow furrowed and I shook my head, puzzled.

"I play the guitar there Thursday nights."

Comprehension dawned. "_You're_ the guitar player?" A grin spread across my face. "Your song choices always crack me up."

He dipped his head slightly in acknowledgment of my compliment. "I aim to please." His eyes darted to the empty seat across the table from me. "May I?"

My mouth opened for moment while I thought about the church service that started in twenty minutes then recovered my manners and gestured to the seat. "Be my guest," I smiled. There was another service at 10:30 p.m.

"I'm Eric, by the way."

"Sookie," I said extending my hand.

"Sookie," he repeated as though learning a foreign word. "Should we order some pie, Sookie?"

Three hours later and with enough coffee buzzing through my veins to power a small town for a week, I left with a new spring in my step and barely enough time to make the midnight service.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Four days later after a gratifying rehearsal, Amelia, Tara and I firmed up our plans for New Year's Eve while we walked down the street that hummed with nightlife activity.

"Beautiful," said Tara. "See you at Barbuto's at 9 then." A cab pulled over to pick her up and Amelia and I continued on.

"I'm jumping on the subway too. Octavia's meeting me uptown."

"Oh," I said weakly. I was nervous and excited to see Eric again and wasn't sure I was prepared to have Amelia by my side when I did. We'd exchanged voice mails, but I had yet to speak with him since Christmas.

Amelia shot me a look. "_Oh_?" she said mimicking me. "What's up with you?"

I shook my head to clear it and breathed in deep to calm my nerves. "Nothing." I gave her my brightest reassuring smile. "Ignore me. I'm just…preoccupied."

"Humph."

My pulse quickened and my palms began to sweat when we descended the steps to the platform. As nonchalantly as possible my eyes darted across the scattered crowd. Disappointment began to ball up in my chest until I heard the first clear notes of the guitar. I let out a little breath of relief.

"Hey," Amelia said registering the melody, "this is that song you always play, isn't it?" She grabbed my elbow and pulled me in the direction of the source of the music.

A happy glow spread through my chest when I remembered I'd told Eric it was one of my favorites. and I wondered if he'd seen me we neared the edge of onlookers.

"Criminy, would you look at that guy?" Apparently she'd caught sight of Eric.

I elbowed her to keep it down as Eric glanced up at me with a crooked grin then looked down again before I could react.

Amelia elbowed me right back. "Oh my God, he looked _right_ at you," she practically squealed. It was like high school revisited.

Between seeing Eric again and my loose cannon of a friend who seemed likely to embarrass me at any moment, my heart was palpitating dangerously. I should have mentioned him to Amelia so she could try to exercise some subtlety, but it was too late for that. Plus, subtlety wasn't really her thing.

"I wonder if he's available for parties," she whispered leering at him. "Private parties."

"Ach. Stop Amelia," I hissed. "He's a composer, not a _gigolo_."

Amelia's steely grip latched onto my upper arm.

"Back up the bus." Amelia stepped in front of me and fixed me with her "serious business" look. "You know him?"

"I've met him," I stammered and ventured a sideways glance at the subject of our conversation.

"And you didn't tell me?" she looked wounded.

"It was just a couple of days ago, it's not like we've gone out or anything." Mercifully we'd stopped out of earshot of Eric.

She narrowed her eyes to evaluate me, and then pulled me further into the ring of Eric's audience. When the song ended, he flashed a smile to the crowd through the applause, and then bent his head while he strummed the opening chords of the next song.

After a moment, the melody of "What Are You Doing New Year's Eve" floated across the crowd. I swallowed hard and felt a flush of hopeful excitement color my face.

Amelia leaned in close to my ear. "Is he singing this to you?"

"I don't…" I sputtered.

"Cause you're blushing like he might be."

"This coat's hot." I whispered lamely and pulled at the neck. "Plus, it's a seasonal song."

At that moment Eric looked up at me with an eyebrow clearly cocked in question.

"Oh yeah, he's definitely asking you out."

"But you, Tara and I already have plans for New Year's."

Amelia spun to me, "If you say no, I will _never_ speak to you again."

"But…."

"Sookie," she said in warning.

"I'm not an abandon-my-girlfriends-for-a-guy sort of gal."

She smacked her forehead in exasperation. "For Pete's sake give it a rest."

"Amelia!"

"I'm serious. Do it for me," she implored. "Do it for women everywhere."

I laughed and looked up, startled to find that Eric had finished the song and was now standing just a couple of feet away.

"What are you doing for women everywhere?" he asked me with an amused expression after catching the tail of Amelia's sentence.

"Going for a run tomorrow," I lied at the exact moment Amelia blurted out, "She's going out with you on New Year's."

My mouth hung open in shocked mortification and I wished the platform would swallow me up whole.

Eric looked at Amelia and grinned. "Excellent."

Amelia and Eric exchanged greetings while I attempted to recover a shred of self-possession.

"The thing is, I actually have plans already with Amelia and our friend Tara."

Eric shrugged, unperturbed. "I've got two friends."

"Well," I smiled, "in that case…"

"It's a date," he finished.

In my peripheral vision I saw Amelia fight to control a fist pump. The whoosh of air at our backs signaled the approaching train.

"I'll call you tomorrow," he promised and resumed his position on the platform.

I smiled and boarded the train with Amelia. She was brimming with excitement and talking a mile a minute, pumping me for information about Eric and speculating about his friends. When we approached her stop she gave me a bone-crushing hug and rushed off the train.

"Hey Sookie!" she called back to me through the open doors of the train, "Never again will I doubt your magic beans."

Before I could correct her terminology for the dozenth time, the doors closed, and she blew me an exuberant kiss. I sank into a seat.

I couldn't keep the grin off my face. Whether it was the universe's payoff for 28 years of Hoppin' John on New Year's or not, I was indeed feeling lucky.


End file.
